Palms For Conceited Cable Teeth
by W.c.e
Summary: Masashi knows somehow he has to keep his family together. He knows he's young, but he also knows he needs to try. What he doesn't know is how to overcome the obstacle of falling in love with your step-sister. An Oniichan To Issyo Me And My Brothers story


I can remember.

Her hair was soft, her head was warm, her body a sweet hue of cherry. Her hands felt feverish within my own, tiny with a sickly layer of sweat. My own much larger hands clutched the dark fabric of her dress, which was dark and ominous like an abandoned highway in the newborn hours of the morning.

Were I to hold the cloth any tighter, my fingers might have turned a permanent black. It gave me chills; an infant clothed in mourning attire. Yet, Sakura, my obnoxiously cute baby sister, could not have worn it any better. She was adorable, and eyes of various relatives seemed to find their way over to the contour of her baby button nose, and droopy eye-lids. It seemed instinctive to me to shield her from those eyes, however harmless they might be. So I held her closely, then, my little cherry blossom, for soon she would be no longer be mine to hold.

A sound I hear often in those antagonistic creatures called nightmares or dreams or memories, is the sound of Tsuyoshi's chest breaking apart like an earthquake, his intense sobbing nothing but a bother to the miscellaneous grievers around us.

"Shh." I hear Takashi whisper, and I think I was rubbing Sakura's back then. It never failed to comfort her.

Between Takashi who looked violently ill, and Tsuyoshi's heart wrenching cries, I was more worried about my youngest brother, Takeshi. He was usually so silent , he made me, a smug hot-shot of a newly turned teenager, fearful for the kindergartner. Today, his stoic face was full of confusion and fear.

"Masashi?" My first thought hearing the word was that the voice belonged to none of my siblings.

"Aunt Michiyo." My beloved aunt, as distorted as the rest of the family, caused my heart to beat at speeds that would make a car's tires spin out. Maybe, somehow, I could hear the screeching sound of a car-wreck as well.

All I wanted was to say 'no'. No, I'm not ready yet or 'no, I'm not Masashi'. No, I don't want to go with you. No, don't split up my family. No, don't let Uncle take Tsuyoshi, he's too fragile. No, Don't let them take my Sakura away! No! Don't let her leave just like Tou-san and Fumiko did! No! Don't make me do this, I can't do this. No! No!

"Masashi?" Auntie asks again, placing a hand on my shoulder and pushing back some of Sakura's soft hair.

"Yes." Is what comes out.

Sakura had fallen asleep, and her even breaths fell warm against my neck. My hand remained rubbing circles up and down her tiny back.

Tsuyoshi's one hand held on to my pant leg for dear life, while the other spread mucus and hot, stinging tears across his face. Takashi was still trying to be helpful at quieting him down, and Takeshi continued to stare at me for guidance. What could I say?

To me it seemed that all those grieving somehow-related-to-me strangers, sympathetic almost-friends or acquaintances, and appearance-making contacts from university or high school or whatever random association that won them the golden ticket to my parent's funeral, were far, far too eager to leave.

I, on the other hand, was helplessly wishing the moments spent being looked up to and held onto by my brothers and sister would drag it's heels into the earth and stay there for eternity.

No. No, it didn't happen.

As the crowd made their way to the parking lot, and got behind the wheels of their trusted vehicles, I listened, I remember, to nothing but the sweet little breaths near my ear.

No one but the henchman, the comically criminal bad guys of my naïve story, stayed. They were our family.

"Masashi, sweetheart it's time to go." Auntie stood nearest to me, who'd she be taking in as her own child. I had never been anyone but Tou-san and Fumiko's child. For the past few months, I had found myself slipping further and further away from childhood. In some ways, however, I might as well have been as tiny as Sakura.

Uncle had come to stand near Tsuyoshi, and my eight year-old brother quickly wrapped both his small arms around my leg. When Uncle placed his wide hand over Tsuyoshi's shoulder, a desperate howl escaped him.

"No!" My brother shouted.

I placed a hand behind Sakura's head, her hair feeling light and smooth. The last thing I wanted was to wake her up.

"I don't want to go." He sobbed.

I knew all my brothers looked up to me, of course because I was the oldest, but Tsuyoshi had always had a particular attachment to me. While he usually treated Takashi with the kind of respect only Takashi's politeness and general warm-heartedness could persuade people to give, my stubborn little brother would not seem to listen to Takashi's gentle 'shh's, 'quiet down's.

Eventually, we would prove too weak to keep ourselves together. Grandma would open her arms wide to take away my little sister forever, all too easily. As easily as death and sorrow seem to swallow up the path before them.

Seeing Tsuyoshi's tiny body be yanked away by our shadow of an Uncle, listening to his incessant cries, I felt like I was being shot at.

Watching Takeshi follow our youngest aunt next to our little cousin, Yosuke, he reached out for me, unsure why he couldn't stay, and it sent a wave of uncertainty through my body like nausea.

All the while, everyone being yanked and pulled in every direction, Grandma - Fumiko's mother, really, no relation to me anymore, looked at me and Sakura expectantly.

For Tsuyoshi, protest seemed so easy, natural. For Takeshi, the opposite was true. I, however, found myself drowning somewhere in between.

I knew Takashi would follow whatever I did, but my ambivalence was nearly crippling.

Sakura was lifted from my arms, leaving nothing but the warm spots from where she had been held so closely against my chest.

I watched her leave, and I couldn't say anything.


End file.
